Her Shit Don’t Stink

I’m tired of it. I’m sick of the discrimination and the banishment. Why am I destined to live life as a second class citizen, when everyone else who lives in my house does the same thing, but minus the derision, snide comments and piercing looks of death?

Yup, we’re going high brow today on Daddy Files and discussing farts.

I’ve been noticing a disturbing trend lately regarding the subject. Despite the fact that everyone in the house (including the animals) routinely passes gas, my wife treats mine differently than everyone else’s. If Will farts, it’s cute. Mainly because everything he does is cute. He’ll hold his stomach, bend slightly at the waist and then let one loose. And he always has that look on his face where he’s half amused and half scared that he did something wrong. So MJ and I both laugh, and rightfully so. My wife farts (even though she tries to deny it or pretend it didn’t just happen) and I’m just supposed to look the other way. She gets upset when I call her on it, as if her ass is too precious for such a foul act to occur. Hell, even when the dog and cat farts MJ thinks it’s funny and cute.

But if I fart, it is the end of civilization as we know it.

Look, I will admit I don’t hold back. Mainly because it hurts my stomach to hold it in, so I freely trumpet my gastrointestinal rebellion throughout the house with reckless abandon. And yes, sometimes it smells like a dead skunk that was just removed from a decaying corpse a little, but that’s par for the course. I’d venture to say 99% of all farts smell. It is a bodily function that originates from your anal cavity. The very act of farting is gross and malodorous, so why all the shock and outrage?

But that’s the thing: my wife doesn’t think her farts stink. Seriously. If she does fart in front of me she goes to any length necessary to hide it, and she will never admit it. And if I say it smells, she gets legitimately upset and tells me I’m wrong. She literally thinks her ass expulsions don’t stink. Even if I do catch her, she wants me to treat it like a novelty or some freak occurrence, and give her a pass.

Yet when I fart, she looks at me like I am the grossest motherfucker on the planet. MJ is someone who cannot mask her emotions, so in that instant after the fart leaves my body, she displays raw emotion that cannot be hidden. Her eyebrows crinkle together, her eyes narrow into snake-like slits, her lips purse and one corner of her mouth draws up into a nasty snarl. In short, she treats me like I’ve just taken a dump on the Mona Lisa. Like I’m the biggest Neanderthal she’s ever seen. Like my very existence at that moment in time is so grotesque to her, she can’t possibly fathom that I exist, nevermind the fact that she is actually married to such a cretin.

Earlier in our relationship, I used to be sensitive to her feelings. So I’d either hold it in (painful) or I’d literally leave the room to pass gas. But as we stopped giving a shit about impressing each other our relationship matured, we became comfortable with each other and began letting our guard down. No need to put on airs in a marriage, and so the gas was passed. At least by me. But I was never deliberate or mean-spirited about it.

Until now.

If she gives me that look of disdain, I seek revenge the next time around. If we’re under the covers, instead of aiming it away from her I go right at her. And if she still gives me shit, I either give her the Dutch Oven or I flap the covers up and down so the fart can permeate the room. And if I’m really feeling spiteful, I’ll wait for her to fall asleep and then rip a particularly nasty one that wakes her up.

Some say you shouldn’t resort to using chemical warfare while involved in marital battles, but at this point I have a win at all costs mentality. I’m standing up for the rights of flatulent husbands everywhere. And history will eventually view me as a hero.

My daughter will point her rear in the air fart and say, “farts are a stinky surprise”. Laughter soon follows. I get the same puppy killer treatment if I drop some air nonsense. Now I go silent, blame the kid and ask my daughter if she has to go to the bathroom. My wife in none the wiser.

I dated a girl back in the day who was okay with flatulence (to an extent) but NOT in the bedroom. So I always liked to get in the bed and proudly announce “I’m preheating the Dutch oven as we speak so it’ll be nice and toasty for your comfort.

The relationship didn’t work out. (shocker)

Good stuff as always, my friend.

PS the comments you leave at my blog are hilarious and are better than the actual posts.

OMG, I farted three times while reading this……. LOL….. maybe that is why I am single? Anyway, in a females defense- my ex ate a whole pan of brussel sprouts and the next morning it was shear gastric hell…….. he let one go, under the covers that when I opened the bedroom door to go back into bed, the smell-it made me gag— and run to the toilet and let out my stomach contense…Sometimes, it just plain out reeks…. and as females, we like your face down there doing certain things- we dont want you to think we expel air from certian places down south…….

I’m right there with you. I get yelled at if I fart anywhere in the house except the bathroom, but when I smell up the bathroom, she still gets upset. But to comment when she fouls up the air? I’ll never hear the end of it.

I rarely burp or fart. Either I’m just not a very gaseous person or generations of WASP breading genetically tightened my asshole. Irregardless (Yes, that was intentional) J. W. Bobbitt was also a fan of the dutch oven. Just something to consider.

We have a firm “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy in our house. Oh sure, it happens all the time, but for the sake of troop morale, we are forbidden from discussing it. Except when the little guy does it; he tries pinning us down and farting on our heads.

I highly recommend NEVER to do the Dutch oven. That is if you value your sex life. My ex-husband<<note the ex here. Used to think it was funny as hell to do that, and then he wanted to have sex, umm, no, sorry, feeling a bit sick now. WTF did you EAT today?

He would walk me to the car after picking me up from work, and all through the parking lot he had the time to let em rip, but he would wait until we were in a shut in car to do it. It really was fucking disgusting, his farts are still to this day the worst I have ever smelled.

Some people actually DO have super odiferous farts. More than others. You may fall into that category.